


lovin' the skin you're in

by lingeringdust



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Bodyswap, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 03:51:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4862000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lingeringdust/pseuds/lingeringdust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joan and Sherlock switch bodies. They hate it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lovin' the skin you're in

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally for ladies bingo, but obvs doesn't fit the criteria. still, i couldn't get the image out.

Joan wakes up, checks herself in the mirror, curses, and heads right back to bed.

An hour later, she wakes up to the incessant banging near her head.

“Watson,” Sherlock says in her voice.

Joan groans and tries to bury herself in not-her pillows.

“Watson.”

“Please Sherlock, I’m trying to sleep,” she replies. The sentence sounds oddly strangled like she can’t quite make up her mind between an American accent or Sherlock’s British.

There’s a silence and then the clacking of heels exits the door.

Joan curses again.

 

*

 

“What witch did you piss off this time?” Joan says as soon as she enters the kitchen. 

She had almost fallen down the steps, too unused to the heavy footsteps and the sudden extra seven or so inches. Her chest, though lighter, is now much hairier and her hands and toes aren’t much better. 

She pours a cup of tea.

Sherlock is already clicking away on his laptop. It’s almost odd to realize that that was Sherlock sitting there, cross-legged and looking refreshed at such an early hour.

“While you were asleep, I thought it would be most helpful to look up some possible answers to our -- “ he pauses, waving the air as though he can’t quite put a word to their current condition -- “ _situation_.” 

It looks odd to see her lips pursing in such a Sherlock-like manner.

“Well, good thing we don’t have anything scheduled today,” Joan says and then pauses.

“Wait, you showered already?”

Sherlock doesn’t look up. 

“Mmhmm,” he nods.

Joan scrunches her eyes, fists her (Sherlock’s, her mind reminds her helpfully) pajama pants. 

“You know what, I’m just not going to ask.”

And she tries to spin away like usual, but the higher center of gravity puts her off-kilter, and she ends up tripping over air.

“Try going slower,” Sherlock calls out helpfully.

 

*

 

It’s hard not to look when you’re in the shower, Joan realizes almost immediately. 

The water feels nice and warmth, coursing down her new body. Even though she nearly scrapes the top of her head half a dozen times on the shower head, she still manages. After cleaning herself, she drifts and looks down.

The hair is dark and wet; she touches it. It reminds her of her own pubic hair. It’s a little coarse but still curly and --

Her hands glide down further and she takes the member in her hand. It feels heavy and foreign. 

She already hates it; she wants her body back. 

 

*

 

“Maybe it’s like a stomach flu,” Joan says as she enters the kitchen a second time. Normally, she would be toweling her hair, but there is very little to no hair to towel dry.

Sherlock looks up. He’s still in the same position Joan had left him in. 

“Perhaps,” he replies, tight-lipped.

She sighs and goes to make breakfast. 

“What’s up?” 

Sherlock takes a moment and then another.

“I’m afraid you were wrong about our lack of schedule this afternoon,” Sherlock says. “I had made prior arrangements to meet with Alfredo.”

Joan pinches herself.

 

*

 

After explaining the situation (and proving it) to Alfredo, Alfredo spends the next five minutes laughing and pointing in their faces and babbling something about karma and how he wished he could actually prove this to his friends but they’d probably put him in the hospital.

Joan rolls her eyes so far back she’s sure Sherlock is going to need some medical help after they switch back.

At least Sherlock had some fashion sense, she thinks as she looks at Sherlock in her body.

 

*

 

Joan wakes up, checks herself in the mirror, and goes back to sleep, smiling.

She hugs her body.

 _Welcome back_ she thinks to herself and then immediately dismisses that thought from ever coming into form.


End file.
